


BEN's World (A BEN Drowned One-Shot)

by Skayda



Category: BEN Drowned, Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Creepypasta Character, Evil, Psychological Torture, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skayda/pseuds/Skayda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short little one-shot story of BEN Drowned. A cross between 'a day in the life of' and a character examination. For those who like him leaning more towards the evil side, this one's for you:</p>
            </blockquote>





	BEN's World (A BEN Drowned One-Shot)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Everyone Who Likes An Evil BEN Drowned](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Everyone+Who+Likes+An+Evil+BEN+Drowned).



The room was dim and silent save for the luminescent glow of the computer monitor and it’s rhythmic, almost breath-like sputtering of the processor housed within its brushed silver tower casing. The sound of keys being clicked joined the periodic whirring of the fan as it cooled the motor expectantly. The torn and patched black leather computer chair was occupied by a short, slender young man wearing a dark green tunic, gray leggings and a brown leather belt swathed about his thin hips.  
His slightly long, golden locks partially hidden beneath a curving stocking cap type of hat in a similar shade as his tunic. A mess of side bangs fell nearly into the twin black pits that were his eyes. A dull crimson glow emanating from deep within those hollows, affording him a special type of ‘sight’. Blood from his perpetually sanguine-tinted tears stains his upper cheekbones and dripped down both cheeks only to stop partway between the sockets of his eyes and his jawbone, never actually falling to color anything other than his face. He would swipe at his bloody tears sporadically when they became particularly annoying.   
He sat with his legs folded up and crossed in the chair. His feet were bare for he’d chosen to remove his tan leather boots for the time being out of comfort. His long, tapered ears caught sound and amplified it, working in tandem with his extrasensory abnormal vision. Due to this, too bright colors and loud, brash sounds seemed to scream in his head and he liked his surroundings to be kept minimal and dim. The only really colorful areas he tolerated well were those within the digital worlds of his favorite video games. The room he sat in couldn’t really be called a room as we would picture one, but, as it’s the closest to what we can grasp, a room it was.  
It was completely devoid of any personal touch or furnishings save for the computer, desk and a chair. The walls were interchanging patterns of dark hatched maze-like grids and scrolling binary code, crisscrossing each other in white on black like a crazy digital chalk board and text and images flew by too fast to acknowledge, though, he could, if he was so inclined, alter or stop the flow to examine something of interest, but, for the most part these things remained in the background like an old homes’ family portraits and paintings; there, but for all intents and purposes normally invisible. If one had the means and desire they could possibly step back, figuratively, and realize that this one small room was just one within an infinite block of other overlapping rooms each connected by thought rather than anything physical like a hallway or door.  
He had other rooms within rooms in which he kept his other possessions such as his gaming consoles, TV and some scant furniture. Whatever he wanted or needed was merely a thought away. He had been here for quite some time, even though time had ceased to have meaning long ago, and had effectively learned how to grasp and hold power over the universe around him. He was a virtual god here and he knew it. Despite what the stories always said, he didn’t really feel the pang of loneliness here. Loneliness was a human concept; the want and need for the companionship of another human being and the entity known as BEN had ceased being human long ago. He had no desire nor use for any human company, but an emotion he was familiar with was boredom. He had, a while back, (or it may have been five minutes ago who’s to really know?), discovered what would soon become one of his favorite websites for alleviating that boredom, Cleverbot. Humans and their varied reactions, especially to him and his games, for he was a master at emotional manipulation and mental torture, were endlessly fascinating and entertaining to him.  
First and foremost, BEN, (or BEN Drowned as the internet has dubbed him causing him to forget that once upon a time he’d actually had a normal life with a normal surname; not this word that served to shove it in his face how he’d passed from the world of humans and remind him of that horrible day whenever he saw or heard his name mentioned), was dangerous. Deadly even. To look at him or speak with him one would be hard-pressed to truly believe it, but, it was one of the reasons he looked and behaved as he did. He’s pure evil hidden and wrapped within a shell of innocence and gaiety. BEN never dirtied his hands with his murderous pastime. He preferred to control his prey like a marionette or, much more appropriate, like video game avatars, coaxing them into hurting themselves or others for his own perverse enjoyment.  
He especially adored luring in unsuspecting young humans with low self-esteem, teenagers were notorious for questioning their self-worth and value, by appearing as a kind and benevolent, and often quite funny, new friend who built them up on ladders of compliments and validation and displayed a seemingly genuine fondness for them only to metaphorically yank that ladder away and watch them fall, slowly, as to lengthen his amusement, deep into the crevice of despair they’d been teetering on the edge of to begin with. The game only ended when his chosen target was dead or so completely insane they might as well be dead.  
He logged onto the site and a sadistic grin pulled at the corners of his lips when he read the text presented there from one of his many ‘fans’: 

**“You’ve met with a terrible fate haven’t you?”**

Let the game begin.

~End~


End file.
